


The One Where They Almost Get Arrested

by LemonsandRosemary



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: (it's weed), Drug Use, Esmé and Georgina have absolutely no chill, F/F, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Soft Drugs, also titled: three women get handsy while high in a parked car, ask to tag, car theft, cocaine ment, geraldine also gets a shout out, hotboxing a car, police prescence, there's no serious consequences and nothing gets scary/dangerous, this really is just fluffy craic!fic, this was an excuse for me to muse about Esmé and Georgina's sexual history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/pseuds/LemonsandRosemary
Summary: Olivia reveals that she's never been high. Esmé and Georgina decide that the best way to fix that is by hotboxing a car.I report pedophilesDon’t interact with my fics if you post/read ageplay or sexual content that features minors, even if they’re aged up
Relationships: Georgina Orwell/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Georgina Orwell, Olivia Caliban/Georgina Orwell/Esmé Squalor
Kudos: 7





	The One Where They Almost Get Arrested

Olivia sat, her feet awkwardly stacked on top of Esmé’s, across Georgina’s lap. She liked hanging out like this, on Esmé’s deep Chesterfield couch propped up in a corner with a book open on her thighs, usually while Esmé did her nails and Georgina did work. Today Esmé was on the phone, trying to organise a caterer for her next gala; her standing chef had fallen through and her assistant was on holiday. Georgina was reading a text by an author who she either thought was a genius or deluded, Olivia couldn’t quite tell. She scrawled forcefully on each page with a ballpoint pen,

“She can’t possibly be serious, there’s no way that’s empirically sound,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, flipping through the plasticised pages to underline something in the endnotes. Olivia tipped her head back against the quilted leather, observing the way Georgina gently furrowed her brow and put the pen cap between her teeth every time she made a note. 

Esmé sighed, shuffling herself in a way that made the heel of her foot dig into Olivia’s ankle. Olivia hissed and moved out of her way, she knew better than to irritate Esmé further when she was trying to organise food.

“No, no, Dana, listen to me, why isn’t Kylie available?”

She made a series of increasingly frustrated ‘mhm’ noises before cutting in,

“Tell Kylie she simply has to make herself available. Yes, tell her Esmé Squalor called, she’ll move things around. I appreciate that Dana, but she will have to adjust, it’s not an option. Yes, thank you darling, bye bye now.” She hung up with a sickly sweet tone that Olivia was very glad she was never on the receiving end of. 

Esmé groaned and threw her phone across Georgina’s lap, “Galas were a lot easier when I could just show up and didn’t have to organise anything.”

“Yes, you actually have to be on time when you’re hosting,” Georgina commented distractedly. 

Esmé scoffed, “It was usually you that made me late.” 

“You were very willing to be late, my dear.” 

Esmé, seemingly unprompted, threw her head back and cackled obscenely, “Do you remember the Baudelaire’s first wedding anniversary?”

Georgina snorted, “Was that the time we-”

“Got high and-”

“Had sex in their downstairs bathroom?”

Esmé suppressed a giggle, “The door wasn’t even locked.”

Olivia smiled, it was sweet watching Esmé and Georgina reminisce about their shared history. 

Esmé flopped forward onto Georgina’s lap, in peals of laughter. 

Olivia giggled slightly, “What did you take?” 

“It was just some pot, nothing serious,” Georgina eyed Esmé, “I’m not allowed to talk about the things Esmé has done while on coke.” 

Esmé rolled her eyes, “Drugs make me horny, Georgina, most of the time you benefit from that.”

“I’ve never been high,” Olivia added, tucking her bookmark back between yellowing pages.

Esmé gasped slightly, “Never?” 

Olivia shook her head. 

Georgina turned to her, running a finger over Olivia’s palm, “Are you interested?” 

Olivia nodded, “I’d like to try it?” It was more of a question. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, but she supposed she was trying to be more adventurous of late. 

Esmé’s eyes gleamed, she snatched her phone back off Georgina’s lap and punched in a number before holding it to her ear, “Hi Arlene,” she started, voice dripping, “Hi! I’m good thank you, how are the kids? That’s good to hear! Mhm, yes can I get three grams? Yes. No. Yes. See you at eight? Excellent, thank you so much, Arlene, you’re a sweetheart.”

Olivia started at Esmé slightly open mouthed, “You have a drug dealer on speed dial?” she whispered slightly, as if she was afraid someone might hear them.

Georgina raised her eyebrows, “It’s not speed dial, Esmé just has an incredible memory for phone numbers. Also three grams? Are you trying to kill someone?” 

Esmé huffed, “Arlene gives a discount on anything over two and we can save some, I’m not suggesting we smoke it all.” 

Olivia piped up from the corner, “Where are we going to do it?”

Esmé chewed her lip, digging her nail gently into a patch of prussian blue leather, “We can’t do it here because the gala is tomorrow; the house will still smell.” 

Georgina nodded, “My neighbours called the cops on us that one time,” she raised an eyebrow suggestively, “so I can’t imagine they’ll take kindly to it.”

Olivia frowned and pulled at the peeling cover of her book, “I’d rather not do it at my house.”

Georgina reached out to toy with the cuff of Olivia’s soft linen shirt, “No, no, I wouldn’t suggest that at all, my dear.” She turned to Esmé, “What about your car?”

“We can’t hotbox my car Georgie, it’s Italian leather.”

“I can’t hotbox my car either, darling, I have to use it. Unlike some people, I don’t have a driver and a limousine,” Georgina said, somewhat less than kindly. 

“Don’t you have that other car?” Esmé pointed out, choosing to brush over Georgina’s scathing tone. 

Georgina scoffed, “Ah yes, my vintage Mercedes, perfect for smoking marijuana in,” she sighed, “I don’t see how that’s different to Italian leather, Esmé, but fine, fine, at least I can air it out.”

Esmé squealed and clapped her hands together, “This is going to be so fun.”

Olivia began to question her choices when she had to walk a mile out of the city limits, Esmé hanging off her arm her heels clattering in a perforated rhythm on the sidewalk, in order to actually get to Georgina’s car. 

“Remind me where we’re going again?”

Esmé jumped in, “So I’ve hired a hotel room about a ten minute walk behind us.”

“But the car is about a fifteen minute walk ahead of us,” Georgina finished. “It’s in an off road,” she searched for the right word, “storage space.”

Olivia frowned, “Why?”

“Because technically,” Georgina answered, “I’m not its registered owner.” 

Olivia wasn’t sure why it continued to surprise her every time Georgina or Esmé openly admitted to committing crimes, but somehow it did. 

Though she supposed she was about to join that club. 

The car itself was nice, rolling leather seats that reclined almost flat. Olivia ran her fingertips across minuscule stitches in plush seating and tried not to think too hard about why Georgina had opted to obtain a car with seats that allowed for whatever it was adults did in parked cars. 

She pushed her back flat against the door of the car and tilted the side of her head against the leather. She hoped the combination of the dim lighting and the cold seat had dulled her nervous flush enough that she looked relatively normal. 

Esmé tilted her head and ran a hand through masses of sleek curls, shuffling them away from her face, “Olivia you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Tact never was Esmé’s strong suit. 

Georgina rolled her eyes and produced a lighter from somewhere within her coat. 

“I should get to go first, I paid,” Esmé said in a voice that edged close to a whine. 

“It’s my car,” Georgina responded flatly before placing the joint in her mouth and lighting it. 

Esmé slumped back against the car door, irritated but unwilling to argue. 

Georgina tipped her head back against the seat rest and sighed. She rarely allowed herself the indulgence of recreational drugs, anything stronger than party drugs didn’t tend to do her any good. She took a second drag and passed the weed to Esmé. 

Esmé placed the filter between her teeth and gave Olivia a languid smirk. Olivia felt her stomach flip. 

Esmé breathed deeply, using the opportunity of an oral fixation to drag her tongue pointedly across her lips in Olivia’s general direction. Olivia could hear Georgina roll her eyes, but she remained transfixed on slick, cherry red lips. 

Georgina plucked the joint out of Esmé’s fingers and passed it to Olivia,

“Have you ever smoked anything before?” 

Olivia shook her head, eyes wide. 

“Just breathe deeply and don’t cough,” Esmé offered, somewhat flippantly. 

Olivia nodded and took the joint, twisting it in her fingers slightly. The air around her was already thick and heady, but she was unprepared for the dense fog that entered her lungs. She coughed immediately, feeling the smoke scratch sharply at her throat. 

“Honestly, Olivia, I give you one piece of advice and you can’t even follow it,” Esmé teased. 

“That’s not fair,” Olivia coughed, “will it still work? Even though I didn’t really get any of it?” 

Georgina nodded, “There’s enough in the air that you’d get high without actively smoking any of it.” 

Olivia rested the crown of her head against the window, frigid with the chill of New York air, and watched Esmé and Georgina pass the joint back and forth while needling each other. 

“Georgie, I can’t be held responsible for that,” the action in question was coming on to Kit Snicket in the back of a bar. She sniffed, “And, besides, it’s not like you haven’t done the same.” 

Georgina laughed, “We should have started having group sex much earlier. Seems like that would have solved at least some of these issues.” 

“You think Kit could handle both of us at the same time?” Esmé raised an eyebrow and cracked a window to toss the dead filter. She wasted no time in inviting herself to raid Georgina’s inside pockets for a second joint. 

Georgina didn’t protest, “No, I don’t think she could, but...” she tipped her head slightly and decided not to finish the sentence. 

Olivia smirked and reached across Georgina to take the unlit joint from Esmé. Esmé sighed slightly but allowed it to be removed from her grasp. 

“Was that a comment about me?” she asked before placing the joint in her mouth and leaning across Georgina expectantly, waiting for the other woman to light it for her. 

Georgina felt the words spill from her lips before she could stop them, “I just think you would enjoy it.” She cursed the weed as she held a dancing flame towards Olivia. 

Esmé snorted, “You would fucking love it, darling.” 

“Have you ever...?” Olivia waved a hand in lieu of finishing the question. 

Georgina bobbed her head slightly, under ordinary circumstances she would have dodged the question. Though she supposed that these were not ordinary circumstances and that, in ordinary circumstances, the question would not have been asked in the first place. 

“Once or twice-“ she skirted. 

“A  _ week _ ,” Esmé added smugly, “for about six years.” 

“Yes, thank you, Esmé, I’m sure Olivia doesn’t want to know the entirety of my sexual catalogue,” Georgina screwed her eyes shut and flopped her skull onto the headrest behind her. 

Esmé raised an eyebrow, “On the contrary, darling, Olivia is positively  _ desperate _ for the details.” 

Olivia sat back against the door, all of a sudden very self-consciously aware of her posture. 

It didn’t take much of Georgina describing what it was like to lose oneself in a tangle of hands and lips before Olivia found herself pinned against the car window with Esmé’s tongue in her mouth and Georgina’s fingers tracing a soft trail up her thigh. 

Olivia barely got any of the contact she was desperately craving before there was a knock at the window and a beam of light assaulted her irises. She heard Esmé groan as she withdrew her hands to readjust her clothing as best she could with her neck bent at an awkward angle on the roof of the car. 

Olivia felt her breath catch in her lungs, “Oh no.”

Georgina squeezed Olivia’s hand and made solid eye contact with her, “I promise you, this will be fine.”

“This isn’t the first time Georgie and I have been caught in the back of a car,” Esmé offered; a tantalising allusion to a story she was sure she would be told in visceral detail later.

“Esmé,” Georgina scolded. 

Unfolding her limbs from the back of a car in an empty parking lot with the judgmental eyes of a tall man in uniform boring into her was probably the single most embarrassing thing Olivia had ever experienced. 

The police officer sighed and tutted, but when he opened his mouth, a glimmer of recognition entered his glare, “Mrs Squalor?” 

Esmé sniffed, “It’s  _ Ms _ Squalor.” 

Georgina mumbled something that Olivia didn’t quite catch, but it sounded an awful lot like, “Fuck’s sake.”

Olivia had to suppress a giggle, despite the severity of the situation. 

“The city’s sixth most important financial advisor?” the officer followed, the look on his face growing more incredulous as he flashed the torch at Esmé. 

Esmé bit her lip, she hadn’t quite expected to be recognised in a professional capacity. Suddenly she wished very badly that her assistant wasn’t on holiday. Being high in the back of a parked car (a _ stolen _ car, she heard a Georgina remind her in the back of her head) with two other women spelled a PR  _ nightmare _ . 

After recognising her, the cop seemed to back off slightly. Esmé silently thanked every God she didn’t believe in that he didn’t insist on seeing the registration documents for the car, and that he ignored the fact that all three of them smelled like a head shop while he returned them to their hotel. 

Once the hotel door was safely shut behind them Georgina whirled around to face Esmé, almost forgetting Olivia was in the room at all. She could still feel the hazy high making her tongue loose,

“Go and talk to Geraldine,” she ordered. It wasn’t a conversation. 

“What? Now?” Esmé squinted. 

“No, not now,” Georgina groaned, “tomorrow. Go and see her tomorrow.” She sighed and added, “And no humiliation stuff,” she continued quickly, precluding Esmé’s ability to argue, “I know it’s fun but make her feel like she’s in control. That’s how we fix this without spending a small fortune paying off every member of the press corps individually.”

Esmé scoffed, “I think I’d rather pay than let-“

“You  _ like _ Geraldine,” Georgina insisted. 

“Geraldine is only fun when she’s sobbi-”

Esmé was interrupted by Olivia, who had flopped herself onto the fluffy Texas king cotton and was now giggling intently. 

It turned out that this giggle was particularly infectious, for within moments, both Esmé and Georgina flopped onto the bed beside her in peals of laughter. 

Olivia sighed, brushing a rogue tear off her cheek, “Can we please finish? I’m feeling deprived.”

Olivia was awarded her wish and then some, before giving in to the deepest sleep she could remember in months. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a fun one! Technically I've been working on it for months but idk I needed the distraction today. Hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
